The underground casino in the heart of Rome breathed with a different kind of life. It wasn't about the money; it was about the secrets traded in the velvet-lined booths. At the center of it all sat the woman the underworld called "The Widow," though she had never been a wife.
Alessandra Romano, now known simply as Lexa, swirled a glass of vintage Nero d'Avola. Her white wedding dress was a ghost of the past. Tonight, she wore a blood-red power suit that screamed authority. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek, lethal ponytail, and a stifle-stone pendant sat at the hollow of her throat, blocking any scent that might betray her emotions.
A soft thud of boots sounded at the door. Not human boots. The heavy, rhythmic gait of a predator.
"He's here, Boss," Vincenzo whispered, stepping out of the shadows. He had stayed with her through the exile, the only man who knew the truth about the night at Blackwood.
"Does he know who I am?" Lexa asked, her voice like velvet over gravel.
"No. He thinks he's meeting the leader of the Syndicate weapons trade. He's desperate, Lexa. The rogues hit his northern border again. Silver-tipped arrows. He's losing his wolves."
Lexa's lips curled into a cold, beautiful smile. "Let him in. And tell Leo to stay in the back with Maria. I don't want the Alpha smelling his own blood just yet."
The doors swung open.
Killian Blackwood stepped into the room, and for a second, the air seemed to vanish. He looked older, more rugged. The arrogance was still there, but it was edged with a frantic, hollow exhaustion. He scanned the room, his nostrils flaring, searching for the "Shadow Queen."
When his amber eyes finally landed on her, he froze. The glass in his hand nearly shattered. The scent of the room, expensive tobacco and old paper was suddenly overwhelmed by a ghost of jasmine and rain.
"Alessandra?" his voice was a low, shattered rasp.
Lexa didn't rise. She didn't flinch. She simply took a slow sip of her wine and gestured to the chair across from her. "It's Lexa now, Alpha Blackwood. And you're five minutes late for our appointment. I hope your pack's survival isn't as poorly timed as your arrival."
Killian took a step forward, his hand reaching out instinctively before he caught himself. "You... you vanished. I sent scouts. I thought you were…"
"Dead? To you, I was dead the moment I stepped off your porch," she interrupted, her eyes flashing with a cold, predatory light that rivaled his own. "But we aren't here to discuss your lack of foresight. We are here because your wolves are dying, and I am the only person in Europe who controls the silver market."
Killian sank into the chair, his gaze never leaving her face. He looked like a man seeing a mirage in the desert. "How did a human girl become the head of the Romano Syndicate? Your father.."
"My father is retired. And I am no longer a 'fragile doll,' as you so eloquently put it," she leaned forward, the stifling stone at her neck glinting. "I have the weapons. I have the silver. I have the intelligence on the rogue packs that are currently tearing your borders apart. The question is, Alpha... what are you willing to pay for my mercy?"
The tension in the room was a living thing. Killian's wolf was clawing at the surface, confused by the woman who smelled like his mate but acted like his executioner.
"I'll give you whatever you want," Killian growled, his voice thick with a mix of desperation and a sudden, burning hunger. "Territory. Gold. Protection."
"I don't need your protection," she laughed, a sharp, melodic sound that cut him deeper than any blade. "I need a signature. I want the Blackwood Pack to sign over their ancestral mining rights to the Syndicate. In exchange, I'll stop the rogues."
Killian's jaw tightened. "Those mines have been in my family for centuries. You're asking for the heart of my pack."
"And you threw away the heart of your pack five years ago," she countered, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Do we have a deal, or should I call the Romano guards to show you out?"
Before Killian could answer, the door at the back of the office pushed open.
A small boy, no older than four, came running in. He was dressed in a tiny black suit, his hair a wild mess of dark curls. He was holding a tablet, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Mama! Vincenzo said I could show you the new map!" the boy chirped.
Killian's entire body went rigid. He didn't just see the boy; he felt him. The air in the room shifted. It was a pull, a magnetic, biological roar that made Killian's Alpha blood sing.
The boy looked up, stopping mid-stride. He stared at Killian with wide, curious eyes. Eyes that were the exact same shade of molten amber as the Alpha's.
"Who is the sad man, Mama?" the boy asked.
Lexa's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't let the mask slip. She reached out, pulling the boy into the crook of her arm, shielding him from Killian's predatory gaze.
"Just a businessman, Leo," she said, her voice steady. "Go back to Maria."
Killian stood up so fast his chair flipped backward. He wasn't looking at Lexa anymore. He was staring at Leo, his chest heaving as the truth began to crash down on him. The boy was human, yet he carried the unmistakable aura of a Blackwood heir.
"Alessandra," Killian rasped, his voice trembling with a raw, terrifying emotion. "Who is that child?"
Lexa stood up, her hand resting protectively on Leo's shoulder. She looked Killian straight in the eye, the Shadow Queen finally revealing her teeth.
"He's my son, Killian. The one you said a human was too weak to carry."